


Communication with Humans

by AntlersandFangs



Category: humans are space orcs - Fandom
Genre: Autistic Character, Gen, Humans are space orcs, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15975104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/pseuds/AntlersandFangs
Summary: A story I wrote for tumblr, moving it here. It's about awesome humans and awesome aliens.





	Communication with Humans

I was nervous, understandably. Humans had a remarkable, fearsome reputation. First contact with the human race had been when the Shianb research colony had selected a familial unit for study and the genetic-mother had torn her thumb from it’s socket in order to escape a binding, strangled a Shianb scientist guard with her bare hands, and violently killed any Shianb that had tried to stop her until she had retrieved her young and mate and then piloted the ship colony back to her home planet. It was a terror inspiring event, but one that was quickly shown to not be unusual. As we figured out how to speak and deal with the human’s peacefully, the InterSystemAlliance had adopted a human phrase directly into the ‘Language, Physiology, and Behavior of Inter Stellar Species Data Collection’: Don’t fuck with humans. Which oddly enough had a completely different meaning to the phrase “don’t fuck humans”.

Hirriib linguists were practically oozing excitement pheromones over the flexibility of the word ‘fuck’.

But I had managed to hire a pair of humans to my ship. Genetic-siblings they were, which ensured previously established pack bonds which were essential to human health, and one was a scientist as well as a weapons expert, a dual specialization common among humans. They were boarding today and I was excited and nervous, my cranial ingota flashing despite my efforts to keep myself under control.

With a trill of the automated doors opening, the humans stepped into the meeting room. They were tall, one ducking through the doorway and the other a length of their skulls shorter. The tall one had their dark cranial hair shorn off and was wearing a loose fitting torso covering with the words #redinstead written on it. Their eyes flitted around the room, never once looking at me directly while their hands made a rhythmic flapping gesture that seemed quite similar to my own habit of contracting my spinal spikes to soothe myself. That must be Danyell Jimson, the scientist and weapons expert. The shorter one had to be Damon Jimson, the hand to hand combat expert. He had impressive cranial hair that stood out from his head in dark, tight curls and pieces of metal inserted through the flesh of his brow hair and the cartilage of his ears in a display of fierceness. He was also wearing a torso covering that proclaimed #redinstead. I would have to query what that phrase meant and log it. He stepped forward and held his hand out in the traditional human greeting of ‘not immediately aggressive’ and clasped my paw gently which meant he was friendly. I held my paw out to the taller one, Danyell Jimson, but Damon Jimson held a large hand out to stop me.

“Don’t touch them.”

My ingota flashed with confusion and anger. “You are isolating them? Human’s require contact to strengthen pack bonds! That is cruel!”

Damon Jimson shook his head, a visual negative cue. “No, not all humans are comfortable with physical contact.”

Danyell Jimson was staring at my ingota and made several gestures with their hands that I was not familiar with.

“They want to know why your crest is changing colors.”

“It is my ingota. It is a visual communication of my emotions. How did they communicate with you? I was told that humans are not telepathic and do not communicate outside of my species’ auditory range?” I was flashing confusion again and Danyell Jimson was staring at my ingota with the hyper focus of a predator. I contracted my spinal spikes.

“It’s sign language, their hands are making words. It’s a visual communication language. Danyell doesn’t communicate verbally.”

“Amazing!” I blurted out, broadcasting awe and fascination. I had been unaware that humans communicated nonverbally beyond simple body language. The only other species besides my own with a form of visual communication beyond basic body language within the contacted solar systems was humans! I couldn’t suppress a flash of giddiness at the thought that my species held a similarity to the intimidating humans.

Danyell Jimson spoke with their hands again and Damon Jimson bared his teeth in a amused/friendly/pleased visual cue. “They said they’ll teach you ASL if you teach them what your crest colors mean.”

My ingota lit up with excitement. “This is excitement. I would be most interested in exchanging non verbal language knowledge with you, Danyell Jimson.”

Danyell Jimson tapped rapidly on their handheld device and held it to their head with the excitement color emanating from the screen, making a gesture with their other hand, a clenched hand with the ‘thumb’ pointing up, a visual cue for approval/excitement/agreement.

I mimicked the gesture with my paw, extending my prehensile dew claw in lieu of a thumb. I could tell that I would greatly enjoy developing a pack bond with Danyell.


End file.
